


The Gift

by Shamashe



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Humor, Jack as Santa, Laughter, Tenderness, flirt, play on words.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 08:13:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9063745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamashe/pseuds/Shamashe
Summary: John Robertson sends Phryne and Jack an unusual gift.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For references to Jack as Santa, see story from last year, “Ho, Ho, Ho, Jack!”   
> For references to John Robertson, see “An American in Melbourne.”

“Oh, Phryne, are you _sure_ we have enough? They are such _special_ boxes after all and I wouldn’t want to run short.” 

Phryne rolled her eyes and paused, not wanting to offend her aunt, but not wanting her to go over the list again either.

“I’m sure you covered everyone, Aunt Pru. I’ve compared our lists and I’m satisfied that everything will be ready. Besides, you have the final seating for the charity event to complete don’t you? Why don’t you leave the rest of this with me and go make sure that Mr. Crandal isn’t seated next to the Ambassadors wife this year! I’ll make sure this is correct, don’t worry.”

“Oh would you dear, I have _so_ much to do.” 

“Yes, Aunt Pru. I’ll take care of it.” Phryne paused, but her aunt didn’t say anything more. “Well, good bye then and good luck. I’ll talk to you soon.

As Phryne hung up the phone, she sat back in the chair and shook her head. Her aunt must have gone over that list with her twenty times now. She needed one of Mr. Butler’s excellent refreshments to get through the rest of the arrangements. As she was headed into the kitchen, she heard a knock on the door and Mr. Butler answer it. She turned back around. 

“Who is it, Mr. Butler?” 

His eyes twinkled, “Well, Miss, I believe you _may_ want to come and see for yourself.” 

“Ho, Ho, Ho, Miss Fisher, Mr. Butler. Meeery Christmas one and all!” 

“Santa? Don’t you usually come down the chimney?” 

Phryne was smiling at Jack’s playfulness. Last year she could barely drag him to the Children’s Charity event, having to dress as an elf to bribe him. This year, he volunteered. In fact, he had played Santa several times this season, much to the delight of the local children who came to the station and to various events around the city. 

Though he had complained last year, he really seemed to be enjoying himself now. He claimed it was because he liked wearing the costume Phryne had made for him. 

In truth though, Jack had made some changes in his life in the last year and was beginning to be more sociable and outgoing again. It was a trait he had suppressed during the last decade. But now, having come to terms with himself, he’d decided to let himself embrace his true nature.

Deep down, he felt relief at not having to lead such a solitary existence. He enjoyed being a bit more gregarious. He was finding it to be fun when, on occasion, he was asked to participate in some event or the other, usually due to his involvement with Phryne. It brought out the actor in him.    

He held out an oddly shaped package. She smiled as she reached for it, “For me?” 

“Well, that depends,” he pulled the package back and waggled his bushy, glued on eyebrows, “Have you been a good girl?” He couldn’t suppress a smile. 

Phryne gave him a wicked look, “Define good, Santa!” 

Mr. Butler had been watching the interplay with amusement. He was glad that these two had finally decided to act on their interest in each other. He enjoyed seeing the Inspector loosen up a bit. He seemed happier these days. Mr. B excused himself and went to fetch a cool drink, the Inspector looked like he could use one. 

“Do come in, Mr. Claus!” Phryne winked at him as she made a beckoning gesture. Jack was already shedding his hat and beard. He loosened his big belt and removed a pillow and his Santa jacket, holding it up. 

In his shirtsleeves, he said, “Whew, it’s a good thing you had this made in a cotton velvet, Phryne. The material of that new silk velvet dress you showed me would be far too hot to wear in this heat.” 

“Well, it was that or have you join the multitudes of Santa’s in red bathing suits.” Jack made a face. Phryne gave him playful once-over, “Although…” He gave her a look that said he’d remember _that_ comment. 

He hung the Santa jacket on the hall rack and went into the parlor to sit down. He was thoughtful as he held the beard up. “By the way, have I ever thanked you for having the beard made on this webbing?” He was holding out the beard, showing her the underside where the hair had been tied onto a net. “This makes it, what do you call it, ‘breathe.’ I do appreciate it. It’s much more comfortable than the kind the costume shop sells. That seems like it’s glued onto some kind of scratchy tarp. I guess to make it not fall off when the children grab it.” He gave a slight grin, “or because it’s cheap.” 

Jack was stroking the beard as he said this and Phryne watched him in amusement. He looked up and saw her smiling at him. Feeling like a child caught snatching something, he asked, a little defensively, “And what are _you_ smiling at?” 

“You, Jack. You obviously have a domestic streak in you that I was unaware of.” 

Jack laid the beard aside, not sure whether he was embarrassed or amused. “Well, Phryne, I _did_ do a bit of acting in my youth - you pick these things up....” At her look, he then grinned and reached out for her hand. “As you’ve said, I _am_ an observant man and I _am_ influenced by the Honorable, Miss Phryne Fisher.” He looked at her teasingly and then patted the seat next to him. 

Over Mr. Butler’s heat quenching drinks, they exchanged the news of the day and then Phryne quipped, “So is this purely a social call or are you working undercover?” 

He gave her a sidelong glance, then cracked a smile and said sarcastically, “Oh yes, undercover!” He pulled at the bright red velvet pants, “What better way to camouflage myself.” They clinked their glasses. 

“Actually, I _do_ come bearing gifts.” He once again held out the oddly shaped package. At her quizzical look, he shook it back and forth. “But I warn you Phryne, it _is_ a bit of a mystery.”   

Phryne looked at him and then giggled like a child. “Oh, goodie, I do so love a good mystery.” The package was wrapped to highlight the shape rather than conceal it. The bright sparkly paper looked a bit lumpy and the huge floppy bow appeared to be attached to the gift rather than tied to the paper. 

Jack watched her examine it rather than open it straight away. He had a sly smile on his face. “It just came in the post yesterday, it’s from John, back in the states. He sends his regards.”   

Phryne gave him a quick look then held it up again, turning it back and forth. “Whatever could this be?” 

“Why don’t you open it and find out.”

“Aren’t I supposed to wait until Christmas, Santa?” She looked at him again and, with a perfectly straight face, batted her eyelashes at him. 

Jack could hardly keep from laughing. “Oh, I think _this gift_ can be opened now.” _That_ got him a response. 

“You know what it is don’t you? Come on, Jack, fess up.” 

“Well, John might have mentioned something to me awhile back about our ‘holiday customs,’ as he called them. But no, I don’t actually know what he sent. He just said it would be something to ‘keep traditions alive,’ or something like that. Of course, we may have had a few drinks in us at the time, I don’t really remember what he said.” 

Phryne opened the package and held up the gift by the ribbon. “Boxing gloves? Why on earth would he send these? Are they a present for Hugh?” 

Jack made a face and shrugged, trying to contain his mirth. Phryne looked him up and down, wisecracking, “Needing to have a go at your DCI perhaps?” At that, Jack laughed outright. She raised her brow, “At me?” 

He touched her face tenderly, “Never!” 

“Don’t keep me in suspense, Jack!” 

“I told you it was a mystery, didn’t I? There’s a card here too.” Jack dug out a slightly rumpled, but obvious Christmas card. He read the address, ”To: _THE Inspector and his Lady Detective._ Obviously he thinks he’s funny.”

Phryne opened the card and read out loud, “Be gentle with our boy, Miss Fisher?  Jaack, you really must clue me in. Is this a joke or something? It’s signed, Happy Boxing Day.”         

They looked at each other and then suddenly burst into uncontrollable laughter. Mr. Butler walked by and saw them collapsed onto each other laughing. Phryne looked up and raised the gloves. At his confounded look, she managed to squeak out, “They’re a gi-i-ift – for Boxing Da–a-ay!” She and Jack broke into laughter again, this time joined by Mr. B., who was holding onto the doorframe, shaking as he laughed. 

Phryne finally wiped the tears from her eyes and said, “Did you tell him to do this? _Is_ it a practical joke?” Jack shook his head no, trying to hold back more laughter. Her eyes got bigger. “Are you telling me that this is serious?” She was shaking with the effort to contain herself. “That’s, well, that’s just…” She broke into peals of laughter again. 

Right at that moment, Dot and Hugh walked in the front door and saw Phryne, Jack and Mr. Butler all laughing. Dot walked over, bent down and picked up the boxing gloves and wrapping paper, giving the gloves to Hugh. He was turning them over, looking at them, when he heard Jack say. “They are a gift, Hugh.” 

He looked up, “for me?” 

Jack choked back another round of laughter saying, “No, Hugh, for Phryne.” 

“Is she learning how to box? I could teach her a few things…” 

At that, Phryne started laughing again.   

“No, Hugh, they are from my American friend, John. You met him. They are a gift - for Boxing Day.”

Hugh blinked and looked back at the gloves. Jack, Phryne and Mr. B tried to quell their laughter. Dot was looking from one to the other in some confusion. Then she said, “But - Boxing Day isn’t about ‘boxing’ - like in the ring at the gymnasium - like Hugh does.” 

Jack, who was still trying to keep from laughing, said haltingly, “Yes, Dot, _we_ know that, but John’s an American and _he-e-e_ , doesn’t!” There was a moment of total silence and then Hugh suddenly burst into laughter, followed by Dot, which started them all up again.      

After awhile, Phryne said, “I can’t wait to tell Mac!” 

Jack looked at her and chuckled, “And John too!”

**Author's Note:**

> Boxing Day is celebrated the day after Christmas in most British affiliated countries. It is generally a day off of work to relax.  
> “Box” refers to a custom in the 1800’s, when the British aristocracy or the wealthy gave a “box” of gifts, goods, money or food to people in service so that they could take it home or go visit their families and have their holiday - the day after they had served their employers for Christmas. (That practice evolved into the present day Christmas bonus.) There is also a Victorian era employer/employee role reversal tradition that is linked to “Boxing Day.”  
> Originally, back around 1680, a collection “box” was a church related, charitable way of collecting for and dispensing to the poor, as in alms. In current times, Boxing Day has become a huge shopping day in some countries, similar to the American, “Black Friday.”  
> Boxing Day however, is not about pugilistic boxing, nor is it about getting rid of boxes after Christmas, per some popular urban myths.


End file.
